Jealousy Games
by lpdrunknmunky
Summary: A brilliant new transfer student has Karakura High talking. Ichigo grows concerned when the boy becomes fast friends with Uryuu, monopolizing his time under the pretense of innocent studying. It is clearly a wicked plot designed to make a move on the unsuspecting Quincy that Ichigo is determined to thwart, even if everyone else thinks he is overreacting.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Jealousy Games

Warnings: mild language, mature themes

Summary: A brilliant new transfer student has Karakura High talking. Ichigo grows concerned when the boy becomes fast friends with Uryuu, monopolizing his time under the pretense of innocent studying. It is clearly a wicked plot designed to make a move on the unsuspecting Quincy that Ichigo is determined to thwart, even if everyone else thinks he is overreacting.

AN: Prompt filled for Moreene.

Theme song: "Grand Theft Autumn" by Fall Out Boy.

* * *

The classroom door clacks loudly as it is slid open too fast. A few heads lift to inspect the noise as someone walks in to finds their usual seat. Joining a handful of fellow early students, Ichigo laments the fact that he missed breakfast due to oversleeping this morning. If his brain wasn't fried from cramming for a test all night, it would have occurred to him to grab something to eat on the way. He is already counting down the hours till he can go home and get some more rest.

At least Keigo isn't here yet to start making a fuss over whatever dumb thing he has become obsessed with. Maybe it was expected when they were fifteen and their biggest worry—aside from the perpetual Hollow incursion—was making it to the next grade without summer school. Things are different with university entrance exams looming. Ichigo keeps telling his friend it's time to buckle down and figure out what to do with his future, but the boy insists everything will work out on its own.

If only Keigo's optimism could spread to him, too. Resting his chin on a palm, Ichigo shuts his eyes and broadcasts a 'do not disturb' vibe in the hopes of avoiding any unnecessary stress today. Two desks over, he overhears Tatsuki and Inoue gossiping. He would be happy to tune it out and go about his business, except he catches Ishida's name thrown into the melodramatic mix.

"Have you heard about that new transfer student, Momoyama Hikaru?"

"Yeah," Inoue thoughtfully agrees, "Isn't he the tall one with brown hair and green eyes?"

"That's him. He just joined the karate _and_ archery clubs." Releasing an impressed whistle, Tatsuki comments, "I don't know about archery but he's a pretty decent fighter. We sparred yesterday and he almost got the upper hand for a second."

"Uwaaah? Tatsuki-chan almost lost?"

"Well, I wouldn't put it like that, but the boy has skills."

"Hmm. Archery? I guess that might explain why I saw Ishida-kun talking with him the other day."

"You did?"

"Yup," chirped Inoue excitedly. "I was on my way to a Handicrafts Club meeting and ran into them standing in the stairwell together. Now that I think about it, they were smiling about something, too."

"Oh, really?" Tatsuki scandalously drawls. "Did they look kinda chummy? I've heard rumors about Hikaru-kun, you know."

"What sorts of rumors?"

"The same sort we've always heard about Ishida." When Inoue remains silent in confusion, she elaborates, "That he might actually be more into guys than girls?"

"Oh, those rumors!"

Ichigo's head almost hits the desk when his arm tips out from under it. He twists in his chair to stare at them in shock. They gaze back with twin looks that ask what his deal is. Scanning the room for any sign of the friend in question, Ichigo lowers his voice to address them when he finds none.

"Hey, what do you two think you're chattering on about where anyone can hear you?"

"What? It's not exactly breaking news," huffs Tatsuki with a wave of dismissal. "You already knew Ishida is like that, didn't you?"

"I thought you said they were just rumors!"

"Kurosaki-kun is right. I've never asked him whether it's true or not. Have you?"

"No," the girl reluctantly admits, "But it's obvious, isn't it? Ishida has never gone out with anyone that we know of, he spends all his free time studying, and his only non-academic hobby is sewing. Plus, I've caught him listening to dance music a couple times."

"That doesn't prove anything." Annoyed at their assumptions, Ichigo relocates to a closer desk so they can communicate quieter. "Did you ever consider that this type of gossip might be the reason those rumors exist at all?"

"Whatever," grunts Tatsuki. "As you were saying, 'Hime—before Ichigo decided to overreact to our innocent speculation—about Hikaru-kun and Ishida?"

"Well, I didn't _mean_ to eavesdrop, but I accidentally heard Hikaru-kun asking if he wouldn't mind giving a bit of private tutoring because he heard Ishida-kun was proficient at many things."

"Ooh, almost like a date! What did he say?"

"He told Hikaru-kun that he wasn't qualified to tutor him because he is a student, not a licensed teacher."

"That sounds like Ishida," snickers Ichigo. "Best shot and maybe the highest IQ in the country but he'll decline on a technicality..."

"Did Hikaru-kun lean in and murmur that he'd make it worth Ishida's time if he reconsidered? Was a mild invasion of personal space involved?"

Shooting Tatsuki a dark look for asking stupid questions, Ichigo's eyes widen when her cheesy boy's love manga plot is confirmed with an energetic nod.

"How did you know?" gasps Inoue, "Are you psychic?"

"Nope, I've just watched a lot of dramas. Then what happened?"

"I don't know: by then I was too far away to hear anymore."

"Aw! I bet he said yes and gave Hikaru-kun his phone number."

One that Ichigo now remembers he only got last semester. It took two years of friendship for him to get it but somehow this new kid could walk right up and ask a week after they met? No way. Ishida isn't the type to go out of his way to help others when he already has so much on his plate. Rather than fold under the peer pressure of some arrogant overachiever, he definitely shot this Momoyama dude down.

"I guess we'll never know," muses Inoue with a finger to her chin.

"Who wouldn't be interested in someone that handsome, friendly, and talented? I heard he was also number one in his last class. He and Ishida might be tied this semester."

"Yeah, right," Ichigo testily interjects. Tatsuki and Inoue avert their attention to something behind him but he doesn't care enough to wonder why. "There's not a bigger nerd in existence than Ishida. I'm surprised he can even function with such a freakishly huge brain."

"Yes, the tribulations of superior intelligence are legion, Kurosaki, but I like to think I manage somehow."

Swiveling around to gape at none other than the nerd in question, Ichigo starts to explain his rude comment but the guy standing behind Ishida jumps in first. He barely glances at Ichigo before turning his nose up in disinterest. A hand reaches out to touch Ishida's arm in a reassuring gesture, which the tactilely-averted dork amazingly allows.

"I wouldn't take it personally, Ishida-kun. Many of my former classmates shared the same envious attitude. Can't help but pity them, really."

"Hey!" snaps Ichigo as Momoyama strides off to follow Ishida and take the seat beside him. "Don't run away from me, punk!"

"Calm down, Ichigo," sighs Tatsuki with a grip on his shoulder to keep him from lunging. "You kinda deserved that."

Shrugging it off with a scoff, he returns to his seat and glares in their direction. Ichigo didn't notice any new transfer student, much less Ishida's association with him until they brought it up. How long has this been going on? Inoue made it sound like they weren't friends two days ago, but they're looking mighty close today. Momoyama whispers something as the sensei walks in. Ishida turns his head to respond, mouth twitching into a little smirk. Ichigo narrows his eyes.

* * *

Lunch time rolls around and Ishida doesn't meet them on the roof to eat. It's not exactly strange, considering he hasn't regularly joined them since sophomore year. According to Inoue, he tends to work on student council or handicrafts club business during break. After the events of this morning, however, Ichigo is suspicious his time might be spent differently today.

Sure enough, when he tracks Ishida by reiraku he is with Momoyama. In a secluded classroom. Alone. Ichigo bursts into the room and glowers even though they are only sitting and talking at separate desks. Ishida is holding up a piece of paper and pointing to something written on it when he pauses to acknowledge the interruption.

"Can we help you, Kurosaki?"

"Yeah, I have something to ask you."

When he doesn't continue, Ishida raises his eyebrows and prompts, "Yes? I don't mean to be rude but Hikaru-kun and I were in the middle of something."

"Can we have some privacy?" he snidely asks the interloper.

"Why should he leave when you're the one barging in here unannounced and making demands?"

"It's all right, Ishida-kun, I'll go. See you after school." Packing up his supplies, Momoyama offers a respectful nod as he passes Ichigo. "Sorry about earlier—Kurosaki-kun, is it? I can be a bit cranky when my blood sugar gets low, and I didn't know you and Ishida-kun were friends who tease each other like that. Anyway, I'll get out of your way."

"Yeah..." Ichigo dimly replies, anger fizzling out on its own. He watches the boy leave before turning to Ishida. "You told him we're friends?"

"As much as any two people who have been through as much as we have yet still despise each other on a fundamental level can be considered 'friends'," he coldly shrugs.

Just like that, Ichigo's agitation resurfaces. Ishida raises a hand to adjust his glasses and then tap some papers into a neat stack. He wants to swipe everything on the tidy desk to the floor and snatch the specs from his face, if only to evoke some emotion other than disdain or indifference. Clenching a fist to resist the urge, Ichigo moves to take the adjacent seat that wasn't recently occupied.

"You should stop hanging out with that guy; I don't like him."

"By that logic, I should've stopped hanging out with you before I ever started; I don't like you much, either."

"I'm serious, Ishida. He's trouble, I can feel it."

"This coming from the man who couldn't feel a Hollow if it were sitting on top of him..."

"Will you quit cracking jokes and listen to me?" he growls, turning sideways in the chair to face him fully. "Tatsuki said he's good at academics, karate, and archery. Inoue said he seems like a really nice, polite person. Doesn't that seem too suspicious? Nobody's that good. Except you, I guess, but that's different."

"How so?"

"I don't know, you're just...weird."

"Thanks," Ishida deadpans, scrunching his eyebrows in mounting irritation.

"You know what I mean! Don't get all bent out of shape when I'm trying to give you a compliment, sort of."

"No, you're trying to give me a _headache_ , Kurosaki, and you're succeeding. If this is all you wanted to say, I'm through listening to your nonsense."

"Wait," he blurts with a light push at his shoulders to keep him from getting up, "That's not it."

"What do you want, then? I already told you I don't have time for—"

"Are you gay?" Blue eyes snap to his incredulously. "Before you start yelling, I'm only asking because the girls were talking about it earlier. Apparently there were some rumors that you are but no one knows for sure."

"Kurosaki, you..."

"I don't care whether you like men or women, personally," he goes on to clarify, "But I think chances are pretty good that Momoyama might have ideas other than friendship. According to the rumors."

"Actually, those rumors about me started back when I was hanging out with _you_."

"...Huh?"

"Didn't Arisawa-san tell you? The rumor was that you originally asked me to lunch because you were interested in me. Add that to the fact that we always fought like cats and dogs when we were in the same room together, and everyone was convinced we were secretly smitten."

"That can't be true." Pondering that for a moment, Ichigo realizes that he _was_ the one to initiate the friendship, especially as far as anyone at school could tell. "Seriously? Why didn't I know about it?"

"The same reason you're always the last to learn anything knew. Exercising a tiny amount of observational skills once in a while won't kill you, as you seem to believe it will."

"Shut up. Answer my original question."

"Which is it: shut up or answer?"

Releasing a frustrated cry, Ichigo falls silent when the bell rings to signal the end of lunch. Ishida immediately packs his things and tries to leave, but Ichigo dashes to grab hold of his wrist. Before Ishida can shake it off, yell, or do whatever he's about to do, a stream of students begins filing in and Ichigo drops the hold on his own. He tosses Ishida a look that promises this is far from over and receives a haughty smirk in return.

* * *

"And the worst part is he didn't even confirm or deny it, that jerk. I don't understand why he loves to mess with me like this."

"Probably because you bug the crap out of him, just like Keigo does to you," responds Mizuiro with a sweet smile.

"Hey, I do not bug Ichigo," objects the fool walking home in stride with them, "Right, best friend?"

Ignoring Keigo, Mizuiro continues the conversation with, "The better question is: why does it bother you so much? Who cares if Ishida wants to date the new kid?"

"Yeah! We don't care, do we, Ichigo?"

"I don't trust him. It's fishy how he transfers in for the final semester and aces everything he tries. Then he latches onto Ishida like a life-preserver. What's up with that?"

"It makes sense if you think about it," debates the cool-headed one of the trio. "Having to switch schools right before university can be dangerous. Ishida being the most well-rounded student in our class makes him a prime target for anyone seeking help to excel in academics or extracurriculars."

"So, you're saying Momoyama is just using him to maintain his grades? That still doesn't explain him hitting on Ishida."

"Isn't that just speculation?" Keigo gets over minor offense to join the conversation. "He hasn't actually asked Ishida out, has he?"

"Not that I would know with the information he's _not_ giving me," grumbles Ichigo, "But I bet the bastard has."

"If it's that important to you, why don't you talk to Momoyama-kun instead? He seems like a good guy from what I've seen. Tell him you called dibs first and he'll probably back off."

"'Dibs'!? What the hell are you implying, Mizuiro?"

"Who knows?" he asks in an apathetic tone. "This is my street. See you guys tomorrow."

"Hey!"

"Let it go, Ichigo." Clapping a comforting hand to his back, Keigo pins him with serious eyes and says, "It's okay. We know. As much as I don't like it, Mizuiro and I accepted it a long time ago."

"Accepted what?"

"That you like Ishida, of course."

As Ichigo is left frozen in the street, too stunned by the assertion to react, Keigo continues home without another word. He watches the boy meander along like he didn't just drop a two-megaton bomb over Ichigo's unsuspecting head. Not only have there been rumors about he and Ishida circulating in the school for _years_ , but even his close friends seem to think there is something else between them. Is he the only one operating under the pretense of it being a platonic friendship?

He resumes walking in the opposite direction after a brooding pause. There's no chance he'll be able to focus on homework and house chores until he clears things up with Ishida. Soon the boy's apartment comes into view ahead. Four heavy knocks on the door later, Ishida is pulling it open to glare with the searing power of a thousand laser beams.

"What are you doing here, Kurosaki?"

Ichigo pushes past to walk into his flat before the door is slammed in his face. He balks at the sight of Momoyama sitting on a floor pillow behind a low coffee table drinking steamy green tea, recalling that he said earlier he would see Ishida after school. There are no study materials out this time, though. Greeting Ichigo somewhat uncertainly, he turns to ask Ishida a silent question.

"Am I interrupting something?" Ichigo flippantly asks the pair.

"That's none of your business," snarls Ishida with a fist wrinkling the front of Ichigo's uniform shirt. "Get out."

"Why? Is this a private party? Maybe I wanted to study, too."

"Uh, should I leave you two alone again?" tries Momoyama.

"No!" Ishida barks.

"Yes!" Ichigo snaps at the same time.

Dislodging Ishida's grip on his shirt, he goes to plop next to the other boy and pour himself a cup of tea. Ichigo blows at the steam and sips it as Ishida seethes and Momoyama frowns.

"I think I'll go, Ishida-kun."

Sensing the kid's discomfort, Ishida doesn't try to persuade him to stay. He follows Momoyama out onto the doorstep, shutting Ichigo inside as they briefly talk. When he comes back in, Ichigo's victory smirk further aggravates him to the extent that his face reddens with it.

"What is your _problem_ today?"

Setting down the cup, he solemnly asks, "Was I the only one who didn't realize?"

"Realize what?"

"That I like you." Ishida has no response to that. His eyebrows do a funny dance like they can't decide whether to show surprise, anger, or disbelief. "It's the only explanation. I guess it makes sense."

"No," he visibly pales, shaking his head hard enough to make his glasses slip and skew, forcing him to fix them again, "No, it doesn't."

"Go out with me instead, Ishida. I'm the better option, so ditch that Momoyama guy."

"I'm not dating Hikaru-kun!"

"Then what's with this 'Hikaru-kun' business? Are you two already that close? In that case, I want you to start calling me 'Ichigo' from now on."

"No, it's—We're not—" Stumbling over his words while attempting to gather his wits, Ishida mutters, "He doesn't like anyone using his family name because it's written as 'peach tree'."

"Oh, is that what he told you? Can't believe you fell for that."

A garbled series of frustrated fragments precedes Ishida rushing forth to try physically dragging him out of the apartment. He tugs back to send him sprawling in Ichigo's lap. The boy struggles, intending to flee this dastardly trap, but Ichigo grabs his arms to hold him firm. Ishida stills when he notices how close their faces are, noses almost touching.

"Have you kissed him yet?" His eyes widen as Ichigo's narrow at the disturbing thought. "Was he your first?"

"Stop this, Kurosaki," he firmly demands. "Let go of me."

Ichigo tugs him closer. Ishida gasps and tilts his head back just in time to avoid touching foreheads. His gaze falls to Ishida's parted mouth and it's Ichigo's turn to flush red, though not from anger. He wants to do it. Wants to know what it feels like to kiss Ishida. A spark of something warm and fluid ignites low in his belly at the thought. How has he not realized this before?

Or maybe he has known it all along on some level but it was never the right time. Both of their lives have been one kind of mess or another since before they met. There hasn't been much time for stray thoughts of romance between all the crap Karakura has undergone in recent years. Although it's definitely true part of Ichigo has always been waiting for the boy to lower his guard, to stop feigning that they are foes, and he thinks...this was probably the main reason why.

Utilizing some cheating Quincy moves, Ishida breaks contact in an instant and ends up across the room from him. Both of them know he could've done it from the outset but he chose not to. It seems Ishida wanted to see what would happen once he was caught in his grasp. Ichigo pushes to a stand, buoyed by this realization, and allows a cocky grin to spread. Even if Ishida wants to play hard-to-get, next time he won't hesitate.

"I'll see you later," Ichigo tells him as he heads for the door.

"What? Just like that, you're leaving?"

"I got the answer I came for. Unless you want me to stay?"

Ishida scowls and shoves him the rest of the way out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

The classroom door clacks loudly as it is slid open too fast. Ichigo strides in with a bounce in his step and takes his usual seat. He returns his friend's cheerful greetings and generously listens as Keigo rants about his latest fascination. Even when Tatsuki and Honshou get into a fight over Inoue's honor, he doesn't lose his good mood. Then Momoyama steps in and the other students quiet as Ichigo gets up to directly approach him.

"Sorry for last week," he calmly tells the wary boy. "I can get a bit cranky when my territory is invaded. Looks like we'll be rivals from now on, so may the best man win."

"Eh?"

Walking away without further explanation, Ichigo returns to his desk and pulls something small and flat from his bag. His friends ask what that was about but he just shakes his head. They'll find out soon enough.

Ishida enters the classroom next, resolutely ignoring Ichigo as he has been since that interaction at his place, and greets Momoyama as he finds his desk. He gives the boy a few minutes to develop a false sense of security before once again rising to visit the front half of the room. A folded piece of paper with only Ishida's given name penned on top is dropped in the middle of his desk. Glancing at Ichigo curiously, he picks it up by one corner.

"What is this supposed to be?"

"A love letter." Ishida releases the square in surprise as their classmates explode in a frenzy of appalled whispers. "Wait to read it until you're alone."

Relishing his astonished expression, Ichigo takes his seat and kicks back to smirk from afar. Ichigo: 1, Peach-Boy: 0.

The day progresses too slowly from there. He is antsy waiting for lunch so he can make his next move. The past week since that auspicious epiphany has mostly been spent thinking carefully about what he wants and then coming up with an elaborate plan for how he is going to beat Momoyama at his own game and win Ishida over for himself. The letter, written in the style of a Shakespearean sonnet— _in English_ —was first in a series of ideas he prepared to do just that.

Tracking him down during break, Ichigo goes into the classroom hosting the handicrafts club and places two chilled cans on a narrow corner of desk not covered with colorful supplies. Ishida slowly lowers the cloth he is embroidering and eyes the drinks impassively. His gaze skips up to meet Ichigo's but he doesn't voice the question he must be wondering. Plopping into the chair beside him, Ichigo crosses an ankle over his knee and leans an elbow against the desk to appear more casual than he feels.

"Wasn't sure whether you liked coffee or tea better, so I got one of each." Ishida purses his lips and goes right back to sewing. He doesn't touch the offered beverages. "Not thirsty? I'll get snacks instead. Do you like Danishes?"

"No."

"What about melon bread?"

"No."

"French fries?"

"No."

"Mackerel miso stew?"

Spearing him with a sharp look, Ishida shrugs one shoulder and says, "Sure, if you happen to have one of my favorite dishes handy, I would take you up on that."

"Then I'll bring some next week."

The boy falters at the possibility of that notion. He carefully sets down his needlepoint and leans in, Ichigo automatically mirroring him.

"Why are you doing this?" he hisses too quietly to be overheard by the other club members. "Tell me you weren't serious last week!"

"Do you think I'd joke about that?" Ichigo whispers back.

"I think you've grown bold in your boredom waiting for the next war to break out."

 _Ouch_ , thinks Ichigo with a light wince, that stings. Tempted to go into a tirade of how he isn't that kind of person—and why would Ishida even suggest it?—he bites his tongue and changes the subject for the sake of not getting into a pointless argument.

"Have you read my letter yet?" Ishida shakes his head and withdraws to begin packing up his supplies. "Read it now."

"What makes you think I haven't already thrown it away?"

"I bet it's in your pocket." A brush of color tints Ishida's cheeks. He stuffs the last wheel of thread into his pack and stands to walk out. Ichigo grabs the drinks and follows him into the empty hall. "Let's go to the restroom, for privacy. No one ever uses the one at the end of this hall during lunch."

"I'm going back to class to wait for next period."

Stepping ahead to walk backwards in front of him, Ichigo holds out one of the cans to him as he says, "Take it or it'll go to waste. Come on, it's just tea. I didn't poison it."

The tiniest sigh slips from Ishida as he draws to a stop. He reaches out to take the coffee held at Ichigo's side instead of the tea raised between them. Fingers graze with the exchange, triggering an electric zing up his arm. Ishida pops the tab and takes a long swig of the sweet liquid, licking residue from his lip. Such a small thing, yet it has Ichigo fantasizing about kissing him all over again.

"Satisfied?"

"Not even close," admits Ichigo as he struggles to dispel wayward thoughts. "Definitely not until you read my letter."

Ishida regards him with stoic resignation. His free hand delves into the left pocket of his uniform slacks and retrieves Ichigo's poem. Unfolding it with only five dexterous fingers while sipping coffee, he starts to read it in the middle of the hallway. Ichigo grabs the strap of Ishida's bag and uses it to tug him into the nearby restroom. All five stalls are vacant, as predicted. He flicks the lock on the main door just in case.

"You're shy about this now even though you gave it to me in front of our entire class?"

"I told you to wait until you were alone."

"Oh, then you'd better leave, as well."

"Shut up and read," he urges with a dark smirk. "Before I recite it to you instead."

Looking frightened by the very prospect, Ishida sets his drink on the counter to straighten the page and scan its contents.

 _"_ _Ode to a Nerdy Quincy_

 _There once lived a prince of many talents._

 _Clever, swift, caring, and handsome was he,_

 _Even lacking no prudence of mind since_

 _He knew nothing in life was ever free._

 _Then one day the prince met a warrior,_

 _Who saw him only as a strong ally_

 _And led him toward a sky much darker_

 _Than any he had ever dared to fly._

 _Yet, when the great warrior lost his way,_

 _Confusing friend with foe, evil with good_

 _It was the prince who knew just what to say_

 _Bravely showing him where he really stood._

 _Thus the prince cleared the gloomy sky above,_

 _Easily winning the warrior's love."_

Ichigo watches closely for any change in expression, but there is none. The glare of white paper reflects in his glasses to hide his eyes. It doesn't take him long at all to finish the brief sonnet. The single sheet crinkles in the strained silence as Ishida drops his arm to his side. He meets Ichigo's expectant gaze at last.

"Kurosaki, this—"

"I was also serious about wanting you to call me 'Ichigo', if you think you can manage it."

"I-Ichigo," he obligingly pronounces with difficulty, "This is actually...quite good. You wrote it by yourself?"

"Yep. Better than anything that lame Momoyama could come up with, huh?" Ishida's expression shutters at the mention of his new friend's name. He smacks the poem to Ichigo's chest for him to catch or not and pivots on a heel to unlock the door. "Wait, where are you going? That's all you have to say?"

"What more do you need? You've proven your creative superiority. I would offer you a prize but it seems the boost to your ego is sufficient."

"That's not—" he tries to say but Ishida leaves before he can finish with, "the reason I wrote it. Shit."

Leaning against the wall, Ichigo scowls at the abandoned can of coffee as a surrogate for its crotchety owner. He was so sure the plan would be a success. Ishida even said he thought the poem was good, only getting annoyed when his precious pal was mentioned. Is the new kid that special to him that Ichigo's attempts at competition irritate rather than flatter? At this rate, he is going to _alienate_ Ishida before he convinces him.

Maybe he should back off for a little while. Looking at it logically, Ichigo has no direct evidence that Momoyama is actively pursuing him in the first place. It could all be in his head. The better plan might be playing it cool and waiting for Ishida to realize how brightly he shines in comparison to the transfer student. Given time, a favorable conclusion will surely result.

The door swinging open beside him derails Ichigo's thoughts. He looks up and twitches when none other than Momoyama walks through and greets him. Running a hand through swoopy brown hair, he offers a sunny smile that sets Ichigo on edge.

"Good afternoon, Kurosaki-kun. I was hoping I could trouble you for a moment of your time."

"What's up?" he assents, straightening to face the newcomer. "Wait, how did you know I was in here?"

"Because I just saw you dragging Ishida-kun into this restroom."

"Oh. Right."

"Anyway, about what you said this morning, regarding 'invasion of territory'..."

"Uh, actually, I guess I shouldn't have—"

"You may have seen him first, but I'm the one who has the guts to go for it." Ichigo's mouth falls open a little as his suspicions are shamelessly confirmed. Momoyama narrows his eyes and leans in aggressively, "Besides, Ishida-kun sees you as a nuisance, nothing more. Quit while you're ahead because you _do not_ want to go head-to-head with me. I've done this too many times to lose to a fumbling novice who isn't even out yet."

"What!? 'Out'...?"

The boy rolls his eyes and plants a hand on his hip, the other gesturing widely to Ichigo in open disdain.

"You've gotta be kidding me. This is what I'm up against, a guy who doesn't know that much? Let me ask you something: do you want to fuck Ishida or not?"

"Don't talk about him like that!"

"Well? Do you?" Glowering at the belligerent boy, Ichigo doesn't dignify the crude question with a response. "Because I do. I want to stick my tongue down his throat, throw open his legs and taste his screams as I split him open."

Ichigo reacts before thinking, lunging forth to slam the boy roughly against the door with a wordless snarl. Momoyama laughs.

"Shut the hell up! I told you not to say that shit about Ishida."

"Ooh, sensitive are we? This is all your type is good for, Kurosaki; thoughtless violence and bottomless rage. You want to beat me up, don't you?" Yes, he really does. Ichigo clenches a fist in the boy's crisp shirt to keep it from rearing back for a punch. "What if I said I'm gonna get him to suck me off, my fingers tugging at his shiny black hair, so I can come all over his pretty face?"

A vein pops out on Ichigo's forehead. He won't give the little freak the satisfaction of proving him a mindless thug, though. That seems to be exactly what Momoyama wants. Then he can go running to Ishida claiming he got attacked by the big bad jerk who has been harassing him lately. Through sheer force of will, Ichigo releases the fabric in his hands and takes a deliberate step back. Surprise flashes over Momoyama's features.

"If you think it'll be that easy, go ahead and try. But I know Ishida better than almost anyone and he's not nearly dumb enough to fall for the sick games of a lying snake like you."

"Does that mean you'll stay out of my way?"

"It means _watch your back_ , Momoyama."

Nodding contemplatively, he regards Ichigo with something akin to respect. He smirks in acceptance of the challenge.

"Same to you, Kurosaki."

* * *

It starts out simply enough. Determined to beat the usurper at his own game, Ichigo doesn't try appealing to Ishida with this new side of Momoyama's despicable personality. He has no reason to believe Ichigo over that smiling rat, other than years of friendship which seems to amount to less than he thinks it really should. No, he won't go that route and neither will he throw in the towel to clear the ring for a false champion. He'll stick to his original plan and show Ishida why he is the better candidate for his affections.

Which is why he ends up crashing an after-school archery club session demanding a 'duel' with Momoyama three days later.

Apparently Ishida is through asking why he is doing what he is doing, as he stands off to the side watching proceedings with a detached air. He had been adjusting Momoyama's grip on the bow when Ichigo walked up, and just the sight of their hands barely touching was enough to set his blood boiling in rage. Reigning it in, he approached the duo and promptly demanded a fair competition, ignoring members' comments and questions regarding his dubious archery skills. It's true he hasn't really done it before, but it can't be that hard. Right?

"Whoever gets closer to the bull's-eye across three shots wins," he heatedly proposes, picking up a nearby bow. Ishida raises a skeptical eyebrow. "Unless you're scared, Momoyama?"

The boy chuckles. "I'll gladly accept. Though it's hardly fair to you. What's the prize?"

"The winner," Ichigo dramatically pauses, raising a finger to point at Ishida, "Gets to treat him to coffee."

"What? I don't even like coffee, Kurosaki."

"But earlier this week, you—" Cutting himself off with a frustrated sound, he glares at Ishida for being intentionally difficult. "Tea, then. I don't care."

"Who said you could volunteer my time for some stupid competition? I refuse."

"You don't get to refuse! You're going whether you like it or not, so get over it."

A confused jumble of muttering results from their brief spat. The other students around them don't know whether to be annoyed at the disruption or amused by his antics. Ichigo ignores them all and snatches an arrow in preparation to go first. Assuming something like a shooting stance, he aims at the distant target. Pulls back the string. Stifled giggling erupts behind him.

"What?" he turns to indignantly ask the noisy collective. No one answers him. Starting over, he once again twitches at their laughter. "What the hell is so funny?"

His eyes fall sharply on a girl covering her smile with a small hand. She squeaks and sobers under the attention but remains silent. Ishida makes his way over to stand in front of him

"Stop this foolishness, Kurosaki. You're disrupting club activities and as Student Council president I cannot allow you to impinge on their limited schedule at this range for the sake of a petty squabble."

"Oh, don't give me that crap. This won't take long and then the club can go about its business."

"I must insist," Ishida grits with a meaningful look. "This isn't the _time_."

"Shall I go first, Kurosaki-kun?" interjects Momoyama as Ichigo tries to figure out the obvious subtext behind his friend's message. "Ishida-kun is right: we should hurry this along."

"Sure, whatever."

Momoyama beams at him and gracefully lifts his bow to draw and fire in one smooth, efficient motion. The arrow zooms to its target and spears dead-center with ease. Ichigo swallows hard. He glances to Ishida, guessing that is the reason he was trying to talk him out of this. Despite his critical frown, he was looking out for Ichigo all along, trying to save him from humiliation. It's too late now. If he tries to back out, everyone will know it's because he is intimidated by Momoyama's abilities. He won't give that bastard the satisfaction.

Ishida sees it written all over his face. He stops Ichigo with a grip on his shoulder as he tries to step up for the shot.

"Wait. You said it yourself, Hikaru-kun: this contest is hardly fair. Kurosaki has never had any formal training with archery, much less the handful of advanced pointers I've shown you."

"What are you getting at?" Ichigo asks him. "You can't convince me to bow out."

"Think I don't already know that? You're the most obstinate person I've ever known! Doesn't change the fact you're at a disadvantage here."

"What do you suggest, Ishida-kun?"

"Give me twenty minutes alone with him," he tells Momoyama before turning back to Ichigo. "I'll give you the same advice I offered Hikaru-kun, solely in the interest of evening the scales. In the meantime, the club can resume practice and you two can start over with a fresh round when we return. Agreed?"

After a pause, both contenders reluctantly nod acquiescence. Ishida tugs his wrist to drag him off the range and out of earshot. He takes the bow and arrow from Ichigo's grip to place them on the ground.

"Expert in twenty minutes, huh? You must be some tutor. Why bother? Might as well have left me to my doom."

"This is your own fault, Kurosaki. If you weren't so relentlessly stubborn over the silliest things—"

"I wouldn't call a date with you a 'silly thing'." That shuts Ishida up faster than any angry or biting word Ichigo ever spoke to him. "You know that's really why I'm doing this, don't you? I'm not just bored and this isn't a damn joke: I _like_ you, Uryuu."

"Eighteen minutes and counting. Try to focus, will you? First is the archer's stance, which is done like this."

One by one, Ishida shows him the proper method for each stage. Ichigo does his best to listen despite a nagging frustration with the boy for refusing to acknowledge his confession _again_. He fumbles the arrow while trying to nock it on the bow that he hadn't even strung properly earlier—which explains why the club members were laughing at him. Well, one reason of several, as it turns out. Patiently yet sternly instructing him, Ishida steps back with an approving nod when he finally gets everything right two minutes to the deadline. Ichigo lowers the bow and pins his teacher with a serious gaze.

"Thank you." Averting his eyes, Ishida starts to say something dismissive. Ichigo interrupts with a light touch to his hand, "I mean it. You didn't have to help me like this. It would've been funnier to watch me go down in flames."

"Yes, well...it pains me to watch a fellow Quincy handle our traditional weapon so poorly."

It's the first time Ishida has ever officially recognized their shared heritage. Probably since it means he can't call Ichigo a 'stupid Shinigami' anymore. Regardless of the motive, it makes him smile. Shifting his light hold on Ishida's hand, he completes the tentative gesture by clasping it more securely.

"If you're that concerned, I'd be willing to accept private lessons until you're satisfied with my performance."

Color rises at the double-entendre. Ishida withdraws his hand—gently rather than harshly, Ichigo notices—and forces a shallow frown.

"Time's up. Get back there and preserve our clan's pride."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say it sounds like you want me to win," he teases as they start walking towards the range. "Are you that eager to have tea with me?"

"Actually, I prefer coffee."

Ichigo nudges him with an elbow, stomach giving a giddy flip to see Ishida's small smirk for the jibe. It disappears when Momoyama and the archery club students come into view. Without a single word, Ichigo strides right into position and fires his first arrow with all the help of the tips he just learned. It hits the target, slightly left of center. He grins anyway, knowing it was likely only Ishida's mercy that allowed it to land at all. A surprised surge of whispers precedes scattered applause.

"Fast learner, Kurosaki-kun?"

"Nah, I just have an awesome sensei."

Momoyama starts to scowl, but turns it into a tight smile at the last second. He takes his first shot of the second round and nails it. The onlookers clap for him, too. Ichigo is starting to resent having an audience to witness this and gossip later. Although that was part of the whole point, to prove to Ishida that he wasn't ashamed of his affection for the boy. Except that was when he still thought he had a good chance of beating the new transfer. That thought in mind, he steels his resolve to prevail against poor odds. No way is he going to let Momoyama take his date out for tea/coffee instead!

A deep breath in and he is lining up his next shot. Slow breath out, release.

Excited cheers celebrate his first true bull's-eye. He looks back just in time to watch astonishment flit across Ishida's face. A warm bubble expands in his chest, lending him levity and inspiration. Momoyama scoffs.

"You sure you've never done this before?" he asks Ichigo with suspicious eyes.

"I guess I'm a natural." The same girl from earlier giggles behind her hand again. Momoyama readies his next shot. Right before he draws back on the string, Ichigo says, "You know that thing you told me the other day, about what you wanted to do with Ishida? It's _never_ gonna happen. I'll make sure of that."

Spearing him with a glare, the boy aims carefully but misses the center by several centimeters, worse than Ichigo's first shot. All he has to do is make a final perfect score and that date is his; it won't matter how well Momoyama hits the third target. But now the pressure is on and Ichigo's heart is pounding. Palms sweating, fingers slipping. The string snaps him as he tries to draw. He mutters a low curse.

"Get it together, Kurosaki. We don't have all day."

Ishida's words and tone are callous but his expression is soft. The rich blue of his eyes locked onto Ichigo's has a relaxing effect on him. Wiping his palms on his slacks, he grips the bow firmly and tries again. The arrow flies to the target, imperfect but very close. He sets the weapon down and backs away, waving to the gathered students applauding his efforts. Not to be forgotten, Momoyama is quick to slide in and prepare for his last attempt.

"Maybe next time, Kurosaki-kun. I'll be claiming that prize after all."

Before he can loose the arrow, Ishida crosses the range to lean close and murmur something only Ichigo can hear. He grins and Momoyama falters at the last instant. The arrow imbeds into hard-packed earth almost a meter from the target. The boy freezes in shock while the crowd behind coos in sympathy, then offers Ichigo casual congratulations. Ishida and the other students disperse quickly after that, heading back into the school to collect their supplies and head home for the day.

With only the two of them lingering, Momoyama advances on Ichigo with obvious irritation.

"Good game," he genially tells the fuming boy.

"What did he say to you?"

"Who, Ishida?" He snickers as Momoyama turns red with fury. "He said 'pick me up Saturday at two o'clock'."

"But I hadn't lost yet!"

"It's another one of those things I know about Ishida that you don't: he won't be 'claimed' by anyone, whether you're a first-class _creep_ or not."

Feeling lighter than sun beams, Ichigo struts off and leaves Momoyama gaping in the revelation that he was his own downfall.


	3. Chapter 3

Spending way too long staring at the pitiful selection in his closet is the first step in a long descent to madness. Ichigo closes his eyes and picks a shirt at random. Problem solved, but then he has to think about what accessories he wants to rock, which jacket or hoodie looks best, and which pair of sneakers to wear. By the time he is dressed and ready to walk to Ishida's apartment for their date, he needs a breather. His sisters catch him on the way out, demanding to know where he is running off to on a Saturday afternoon. Goat-chin has to join in on the fun, of course. Ichigo leaves the house shouting at the nosy bunch and frazzled beyond fairness.

It doesn't help that this is also technically his first date. With Ishida, no less. He has no idea what to expect.

The apartment door opening to reveal a half-dressed Ishida does nothing to soothe his frayed nerves. Shirt open to a bare chest over unzipped pants, he distractedly invites Ichigo in and resumes adjusting his clothes. The damage is already done, though, since he now knows what color Ishida's boxers are and which scars on his torso haven't been erased by Inoue's abilities. Those images aren't leaving him any time soon.

"A-am I early?" he uncertainly asks.

"No, I'm almost ready. Hand me that belt?"

Glancing to the chair Ishida is pointing at, he lifts the brown leather belt slung over the back and hands it over. Ichigo has to force himself to look away as the boy casually flicks his shirt flaps aside to push it through the loops. He snaps the shirt closed one clasp at a time and pulls on a light jacket to combat the late autumn chill outside. His eyes lift to meet Ichigo's at length, catching him looking again.

"Sorry."

"If I minded I wouldn't have let you in yet. I'm not body-shy, Kurosaki."

"Oh," he says, completely baffled. "But isn't it different if I _want_ to see you naked?"

"It would be different if I wanted to see _you_ naked."

"Ouch. Anything I can do to change your mind?"

"We'll see. Depends which coffee shop you pick for us to try."

"That's a lot of pressure, Ishida," he teasingly complains with mock-concern. "I don't know if I can handle it...Why don't I let you choose? Especially since I kind of dragged you into this against your will."

Finally, his mouth twitches into a smirk and Ichigo matches it with a twinge of relief. He follows Ishida to his favorite coffee house less than a mile away from his flat, too anxious to say much. When they walk up to the counter, Ichigo gets an idea. He stops Ishida before he orders and sets his phone opened to the memo app in his palm.

"What is this for?"

"A quick game. Type what you were going to order—don't let me see it—and I'll guess. If I'm right, then..." Leaning in to whisper so the attentive barista won't overhear, Ichigo says, "Then you have to answer one question honestly, no matter what it is. Deal?"

Ishida levels a flat stare on him. Seconds tick by and he still doesn't respond. Then he tilts the borrowed phone away from Ichigo and types something very quickly. The young woman behind the register peers over his shoulder to read out of curiosity. The phone goes dark at the press of a thumb.

"All right, Kurosaki. Take a guess."

The way he says it seems overly smug, like he's sure Ichigo won't get it. Knowing him, it won't be something simple like black tea or house blend coffee. No, it would have to be something fancy like a half-caff, vanilla latte with skim milk. Or maybe a fruit smoothie with oddly specific flavors. An exotic treat like Chai tea isn't beyond him, either. He could elect to be a total jerk and choose soda or water. Ichigo scans the menu and worries at his lower lip with a thumb nail. So many damn _choices_. Eventually, he lands on something more likely than the rest.

"Espresso?"

The barista gasps and starts clapping while Ishida narrows his eyes in suspicion.

"How did you cheat? There's no way you got lucky."

Thinking that if he keeps on this winning streak, he might someday be 'getting lucky' in more ways than one, Ichigo shakes his head and shrugs.

"I'm just that good. I'll have a hot chocolate, please."

"Espresso," Ishida confirms for posterity.

Ringing up their drinks, the barista accepts his payment and sets to making their drinks with an amused grin. It's not every day she gets to be part of a caffeine-based gambling session where the stakes are secrets. They find a cozy booth to occupy and wait for their orders. Conversation is still slow to flow between them. Ichigo isn't used to making small talk and Ishida isn't exactly the loquacious type. He tries asking the usual stuff, such as music and movies and books. That only carries them so far. Given their familiarity it seems a bit cold and frivolous.

As soon as their beverages are brought over, Ichigo changes tack by diving right into what he really wants to discuss.

"Are you really into that Momoyama guy or is it strictly platonic?"

"Is that your burning question that we had to play a game to win a pass for?"

"No. Are you refusing to answer?"

"Yes."

"'Yes' as in you won't answer, or...?"

"During the archery contest, you referenced something Hikaru-kun said to you about me. Tell me what it was and I'll tell you whether I'm interested in him or not."

"You don't want to know," Ichigo declines, cringing at the memory of those graphic words. "Trust me."

"Then I guess you don't want to know, either."

Sighing, he takes the hit without complaint. There's no way he is going to tell Ishida that his so-called 'friend' is planning to put major moves on him for his own selfish reasons. It would be one thing if Momoyama liked him for who he is, but since he only seems to be after Ishida for his sex appeal, Ichigo can't condone his efforts. Plus, if he spills about the new kid's lusty intentions it might seem like Ichigo is lying to get Ishida on his side.

"Fine. Next question: are you attracted to men?"

"That's not what you want to ask. Just say it, Kurosaki. I'm already obligated to answer."

"Do you like me back?" he blurts like an insecure child. Dropping his head into his hands, Ichigo groans at himself. "Oh, god. Please pretend I didn't ask that. Can I have a do-over?"

"Yes."

"'Yes' as in I get a do-over, or...?"

Ishida reaches across the table to touch his wrist, urging him to show his face. Ichigo meets his gaze and takes a steadying breath.

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't 'like you back'."

He sips his espresso a little too calmly for someone who just admitted to sharing feelings for another dude. Ichigo chugs most of his hot chocolate while it's still warm. He blames it for the flush rising to his cheeks and the weird churning in his stomach.

It begins to fade as he realizes that this doesn't necessarily mean as much as he hopes it does. Ishida could like him _and_ Momoyama at the same time. He could be dating one without telling the other. What if it's just physical with Momoyama? What if those awful—yet strangely hot—things the boy mentioned wanting to do with Ishida were just the next in a series of sessions they already indulged?

Suddenly Ichigo has to know.

"Has he touched you?" he mutters, dreading the reply.

Faltering on a sip, Ishida sets his cup down and blots splashed coffee from his mouth before looking up.

"My, aren't you forward today?"

"It's driving me nuts, Ishida! Picturing that shady guy's hands on you, him _kissing_ you, pushing you against something and—"

"Do you foresee this rampant jealousy kick you've been on subsiding anytime soon?" he hisses with cautious glances around the mostly vacant room.

"Not really, no."

"It was less than two weeks ago that you even decided you were interested. Something you only seemed to realize, I might add, due to Hikaru-kun's proximity to me. If anything, you should be thanking him for helping you overcome your adolescent repugnance of romance to parse a hidden facet of your affections."

"You wouldn't say that if you knew what he wanted to do to you," he darkly divulges before thinking. Ichigo goes rigid in his seat but it's too late to take it back. "Uh, I mean..."

"Go ahead: tell me," Ishida nods as though he expected this. "I'm not half as naive as you seem to think I am. I notice the way he appraises me when he thinks I won't see."

"You _knew_ and you kept hanging out with him?"

"We study together. I already told you I wasn't dating him. Remember? That day you barged into my apartment before he and I could even take out our books?"

"How was I supposed to know you were telling the truth?"

"I never lie to you. Not since..." Averting his gaze in old regret, his voice quiets when he continues, "Since I picked the wrong side during the war."

He tightens the hold around his coffee cup. Ichigo wants to take one of his hands and squeeze just as tightly, reassuring him that they're past that and he understands. Far be it for someone like him to pass judgment on things he'll never fully grasp. Ichigo isn't sure, however, that the sentiment would be welcomed.

"Okay. So you're not dating him, but that doesn't mean you two haven't...y'know. Done stuff."

An eyebrow arches at the juvenile description. "I'm not quite liberated enough for casual sex yet, Kurosaki. Call me old-fashioned."

"This coming from the guy who was all, 'I'm not body-shy', about an hour ago."

"Are you still recovering from that slight trauma? Imagine, if you had gotten there a few minutes earlier, I might have really been naked." Ichigo covers his reaction to that imagery by downing the rest of his mug's contents. "You seem so fixated on my involvement with Hikaru-kun, yet you freeze up at the mere mention of physical intimacy. I'm beginning to wonder if you're capable of it."

Choking on the dregs of his tepid chocolate, Ichigo coughs and rasps, "Oh, I'm capable."

"Care to make a wager on that?"

"What!?"

Gracefully tossing back the last of his espresso, Ishida gestures toward the door and says, "Come on."

Ichigo follows. Of course he does because they just entered some alternate universe where Ishida is inviting him to prove his willingness to be 'intimate' with him. Of all the ways this date could have gone, never in his wildest dreams would he have guessed this kind of turn.

Doubts bloom when they travel in the opposite direction from Ishida's apartment. They quickly come upon a convenience store and stop in front of its wide front-facing window. The aisles within are short and arranged for maximum visibility from this angle to deter shoplifting. A few people mill about inside, grabbing snacks or mulling over a beverage purchase. A sole clerk leans against the counter in undisguised boredom. She is an older woman who has seen far too much and not enough at the same time.

"What are we doing here?"

"If you're so ready for a romantic relationship and all the benefits included in such a venture, then I suggest you prove it here and now."

"In front of all these people?"

Ishida smirks. " _Especially_ in front of them."

"Um, you know, I was hoping to start out with something a little more vanilla than a voyeurism kink..."

"What are two things you need before you can have that type of fun with another man?" he patiently asks when Ichigo isn't getting it. "Think about it. Think really hard."

He stares into the little convenience store, waiting for something to jump out at him. Tracing Ishida's line of sight, something finally does. Ichigo whips his head around to flat-out deny it but the humorous lilt to his friend's features confirm his conclusion.

" _Condoms_ _and_ _lube_?" he hisses at Ishida in dismay. "You want me to go buy that from a place like this with all those people around to witness it?"

"I do."

"What the fuck will I get if I do something that mortifying?"

"What do you want?"

Considering that, Ichigo's mind fuzzes over a bit at the options. If he goes too big it might piss Ishida off, but if he goes too small he'll regret missing this chance later. He looks the boy over and takes a minute to decide.

"A kiss," he hesitantly enunciates with a last-second rise in tone at the end in case it should be phrased as a question.

"I suppose that's fair."

"Really? I mean, yeah. It is, isn't it? Okay, then I'll do it."

"Good. I'll wait here."

"Hey, what?"

"Hurry up, Kurosaki," he urges with a light shove in the direction of the door. "I don't feel like standing around on the sidewalk all afternoon."

So Ichigo stumbles into the shop, instantly drawing attention with his noisy entrance and noisier appearance. He knew he shouldn't have worn the red jacket and ripped jeans today. Acting natural, he pushes his hands in his pockets and slumps into a nonchalant posture. The clerk barely deigns to glance his way but a middle-aged man reading the back of a bento package openly frowns at him.

Scanning the room as he walks the aisles, he finds the designated area and approaches with ample trepidation. It is a gigantic wall of colorful boxes and containers boasting features he knows nothing about. Some of these words he doesn't even recall a definition for. There are so many options that he literally can't make a decision. Swallowing drily, Ichigo pulls out his phone and resists the impulse to search for Ishida on the other side of the glass as he calls him.

" _Yes_?" he answers, voice dripping with amusement.

"Ishida, you have to help me here. I have no clue what I'm supposed to be looking for...How many different ways can there be to screw someone!?" A mother and small child walk by in time to catch that outburst. Ichigo mouths an apology under the searing criticism of her scowl. He covers the receiver and his mouth with a cupped hand, hissing, "Tell me which one to get."

" _I can't do that, Kurosaki. That's not part of the deal_."

"Don't be like that," he grumbles, picking up a bright pink bottle with a bonfire depicted on the front. "What if I accidentally get something that's only for chicks?"

" _You'd rather get something that can only be used by men_?"

"Ishidaaaa," he whines outright, bending to read the inscrutable fine print on a large box of condoms. "Please?"

A heavy sigh translates through the phone. " _Fine. Only because you asked nicely. Avoid anything that says 'spermicidal' because it's more expensive and you won't need it. Don't pick anything that says 'tingling' unless you're into uncomfortable burning sensations. And for goodness' sake, nothing flavored or heavily scented_."

"Not even it says 'tropical passion' with a winking pineapple on the label?"

" _Why does that even exist_?"

"I have no idea," he snickers, hearing the disgusted shudder in Ishida's tone. Picking up a clear bottle with very little written on it at all, Ichigo releases a relieved breath and says, "Got it."

" _Now, as for condoms, I really can't help you._ "

"Why not?"

" _Why do you think? You mostly choose based on size and I've never seen your—_ "

"All right, I get it! You don't have to say it," Ichigo hastily interrupts. It's hard enough fighting off a blush doing this without hearing Ishida talk about his dick, too. "I'll figure it out. See you in a minute."

He ends the call and pockets his cell. Then he is left standing in the middle of a public forum imagining the size of his own erection compared with the vague guidelines on the boxes. They have everything from lubricated to ribbed, flavored to spermicidal, and something called 'orgasmic pleasure' that seems rather redundant if you think about it. Ranging in number from a few to a few dozen, there are even variety packs with multiple brands in one convenient package. Many reference a certain degree of thinness or are made from a specific material. Some have unrelated names with stupid cartoons or nonsensical claims. So many colors and designs. There are more types than Ichigo can count and it's making his head spin.

Or that might be all the blood rushing to his face because this is probably the most embarrassing thing he has ever done in his entire life and he is _this_ close to running screaming from the building while pulling his hair out to leave an orange trail of crazy as he goes just to get away from all the cheesy puns and crude innuendo.

Ichigo takes a deep breath and holds it for several heart beats. Then he grabs something almost randomly and high-tails it to the check-out counter. At the last second, he thinks to grab a pack of gum and a tube of Chapstick on the way so it won't look like he only walked in to buy supplies for the raunchy sex he _isn't_ actually having with anyone. It is only when he draws to a stop in line that he realizes these could also conceivably be accessories for sexy-times but it's too late to take it back now.

The middle-aged man is in line ahead of him. He tosses a bored look at Ichigo over his shoulder but otherwise minds his own business as the clerk rings up his selections. The mother and child sidle up behind him and he inconspicuously rearranges the items he holds to block them from the little boy's view. The very last thing he needs to complete this heinous excursion is a kid loudly asking about what he's holding and having to hear his mom explain materials needed for the 'birds and the bees'. Older Dude takes his bag and leaves, allowing Ichigo to step up and dump his modest collection onto the counter.

"Find everything you were lookin' for?" drawls the woman. Ichigo could swear she uses a slight mocking tone. "This it for ya?"

"Yeah, that's it."

Please just ring it up and let him leave, he silently begs the universe.

"Oh, big plans tonight, huh?"

"Uh..."

"This is a good brand," she goes on to chatter, holding up the lubricant with earnest eyes. "My husband and I have had a lot of fun times with this stuff."

Laughing amiably as Ichigo slowly withers inside, she scans the stuff and bags it before stating the total. He hands over a couple of bills, cursing them under his breath as they flutter in his shaky grasp. He can feel his face steaming under the scrutiny of two women and a confused child. Holy shit, a single kiss is _so_ not worth all this!

"Thanks," he meekly grunts as his change is handed back.

"You're welcome, sweetie. Be safe and have fun!"

Ichigo pointedly does not make eye contact with the mother behind him as he turns to flee the store. Pushing against the door to taste fresh air is the greatest relief he has felt in a while. Then he notes that Ishida is doubled over with a hand to the wall, laughing so hard that he can't stand without support, glasses hooked on his shirt as he wipes tears from the corners of his eyes. Judging by the exaggerated wheeze of his breathing, he has been chuckling heartily at Ichigo's expense this entire time.

Grabbing the boy's arm, he promptly drags Ishida away from the building.

"You bastard," he accuses once they are far enough away from the scene of the crime. "You did that on purpose!"

"Oh, my—Kurosaki, that—" Still giggling manically, he struggles to form words between great gasps of air. "That was _priceless_!"

"Wrong. Definitely has a price."

Ichigo pushes him against a nearby wall, startling away some of the humor, and takes firm hold of him before leaning in to kiss him hard. Ishida responds after a stunned moment. His mouth opens to let Ichigo in and...It is absolute perfection. Warm and smooth and just the right amount of wet. Tongues sliding and lips pressing with an easy synchronicity. Ishida is the one to moan into it first. His fingers find Ichigo's waist to pull him closer, questing for more. Brain swiftly melting to mush, he buries both hands in Ishida's hair to ground them both.

"Wait..." Ishida breaks free to gasp, "This isn't the place."

"Should've thought about that before you chose the game."

Dipping down to taste his neck, he groans at the way Ishida shudders from the pressure of a sucking kiss. Ichigo's hands drag down to settle at his lower back and bump their hips together. Blue eyes snap shut and white teeth dig into a plump lip as a thigh wedges in to offer friction.

"We have to stop," he insists in spite of his hands refusing to let go or push him away. " _Ichigo_."

The tip of his tongue traces the edge of an ear and he growls against it, "How do you expect me to stop when you call my name like that?"

In an abrupt, fluid movement, Ishida reverses their positions to slam him against the wall instead. A restraining palm is held to his chest to keep him there. The forceful maneuver does nothing to deter Ichigo's arousal for him. If anything, it makes him want the boy even more until he's almost ready to go at it in the middle of the street if necessary. The stern look in Ishida's eyes persuades him not to try. As he steadily breathes reason back into his clouded mind, Ichigo figures that episode in the store was worth it after all.

"I'll see you at school," Ishida declares and starts walking away. He slides his glasses back in place as an afterthought.

"What? Hey, wait a minute!" He gives chase, matching the militant pace. "Date's over, just like that?"

"It seems prudent, given the direction we were headed."

"Yeah, okay...That was intense and kind of unexpected," Ichigo agrees, "But what if I don't want it to be over yet? Can't we talk more or something?"

"We forfeited the 'talking' mood when we transferred over to the 'making out' mood instead. It would be too difficult to go back now."

"So you _are_ attracted to me."

A sharp look is aimed Ichigo's way for the proud comment. "Obviously."

He grins and falls silent, content to accompany Ishida home. They reach his apartment and Ichigo lingers on the door step, not attempting to go inside but not ready to leave yet, either. Overall, this was a lot less weird than he thought it might be. He wants it to happen again. And again, and again...

"You should study with me instead of Momoyama."

"Why should I? I can already tell you would be a massive distraction."

"Not if we make it into a game." Curiosity piqued, Ishida stays quiet while he elaborates, "What if we _only_ study and talk until my class rank improves? I'll show you I'm just as smart as Momoyama and twice as patient."

"Interesting. What's your rank now, twelve? Considering our classmates, making it into the top ten would be a feat."

"Thirteen, and no way I'm settling for eight or nine when your new buddy is closing in on the top five."

"Ambitious," Ishida smiles. "I like it. If you happen to meet this goal, what should be your reward?"

"Aside from spending lots of time with you? I don't know...You pick."

"All right." Turning the key in the lock and twisting the handle, he pauses to deliver a light kiss that Ichigo happily returns. "See you tomorrow morning?"

"Absolutely."

"Don't forget your books."

With that, Ishida steps inside and quietly shuts the door, leaving him standing there holding a bag full of things he _really_ doesn't want to take home with him but can't possibly bear to throw away. It is only when he is halfway home that he ponders Ishida's willingness to believe he could potentially make top marks in school. Despite all his taunts to Ichigo's intelligence over the years, he secretly thinks highly of him, in reality.

The better question is: since when did Ichigo expect that much of himself?

* * *

AN: This might be my favorite chapter ever. I struggled with a horrendous giggle fit while writing it...Hopefully the convenience store scene hilarity translated well from brain to screen!


	4. Chapter 4

"I don't think I can do this anymore," grumbles Ichigo into the crease of his open textbook. "It feels like my brain is about to turn into mush and slide out of my ears..."

"Surely you aren't considering giving up this close to exams. There are only three days left to cram."

He raises his head just enough to peer at Ishida with one eye since a page is stuck over the other one. Although Ichigo never imagined he would say it, studying might be harder than any other kind of training he has ever done. If only because he is much further behind than he anticipated. Well, to be fair he is doing fine compared with most students, but the academic elite are another story. It never occurred to him how steep the curve could be between his casual-yet-adept approach and the sheer determination it takes to compete with Ishida's 'perfectionist' type.

"Who else in our class is even this dedicated to their grades?" he demands, slamming the book shut.

"Aside from Inoue-san, Hikaru-kun, and myself, there is Kunieda Ryo, who has consistently held second place since we entered this school. Ogawa Michiru is also a likely contender, though her position occasionally fluctuates."

"Can you stop using his given name already? It bugs me."

"Oh, I hadn't noticed," Ishida mutters in an aloof fashion. He punctuates the sarcastic fib by lifting his head and adjusting his glasses just to get a rise out of him. "If you intend to squeeze your way into such a narrow percentage in a short amount of time, you will be displacing one of the aforementioned students. Given your intellectual range, aiming to out-perform Ogawa is your best bet."

"Are you kidding me? I won't be satisfied until I rank higher than Momoyama."

"While I commend your lofty aspirations, Kurosaki, a certain degree of pragmatism would be beneficial."

"Is that your way of saying I'm too dumb to beat him?"

Shrugging, Ishida turns to a fresh page in his notebook as he replies, "That's my way of saying it's irrelevant. The contest parameters specified only that you must rank in the top five, regardless of his position relative to yours."

Ichigo frowns at this cold logic. Sure, it doesn't technically matter to the game whether Momoyama is proven smarter than him or not, but it would be a bittersweet victory at best. Is it so unreasonable that he would prefer to show Ishida he is superior in as many ways as possible? Especially since he keeps talking to the boy at school in front of Ichigo on a daily basis. Calling him _Hikaru-kun_ though he continues to stick with Ichigo's last name with the lame excuse that it's what he is used to saying.

Plus, he isn't even sure Ishida considers them to be dating yet.

It has been nearly three weeks of studying and spending the vast majority of their free time together. Ichigo temporarily quit his part-time job to open up his schedule. He declines invitations from his friends on the weekends. After school, they go straight to Ishida's place or the library almost every day. Although he can't necessarily say he regrets any of it in the slightest, it would be a nice compensation to have a stronger idea of where he and Ishida stand right now.

They haven't talked about anything since their first date. There has been no flirting or kissing, no romantic contact of any kind. Ichigo knows he brought this on himself. It was his idea to hold off on all that in lieu of focusing on this stupid competition. Fortunately, he can't travel in time or he would have already gone back and punched himself in the face for ever suggesting it. The only good thing to come of this arrangement so far is the time Ichigo has spent with his friend, despite most of it involving oodles of reading and scarce discussion.

"No, I'm not giving up. But I am calling it quits for the night. Doesn't the library close soon anyway?"

"We have this conference room booked for another hour and I intend to make the most of it."

Another hour Ichigo could utilize by staring at the parts of Ishida he wants to taste. Lately he has had a strange fascination with the boy's hands. Wrists so delicate and slender, but somehow powerful and nimble. He gets the strongest urge to catch one and press his lips to the pulse point just above a smooth palm. Ishida's fingers dexterously readjust on the pen he is using to jot down notes from a history book. Neatly trimmed nails adorn the long digits, making Ichigo daydream about him filing them. Maybe with his fringe clipped back out of the way, tongue between his teeth in concentration as he tidies the edge just right.

How can something so tediously domestic be such a turn-on?

"I think I'll go," he abruptly tells Ishida. "It's too hot in here."

"It is perfectly temperate and you don't need an excuse to flee. You've been working very diligently, after all." The comment has him regarding Ichigo thoughtfully. A slow smirk spreads and he adds, "In fact, I think you deserve a small reward for your hard work."

"Yeah? I could really go for some ramen."

"I had something else in mind," Ishida dissents as he walks to his side of the table. "Stand up."

Raising a curious eyebrow, Ichigo pushes his chair back from the wide table and rises as directed. Ishida roughly pushes him to perch on the table's surface. Then he promptly props his knees on either side of Ichigo's thighs to sit on his lap and kiss him with singular purpose. That purpose being to erase the irritation and exhaustion caused by hours of debilitating world history and Japanese literature lessons from his mind.

Ishida nips his lip to insist entrance. His tongue eagerly engages Ichigo's for a lengthy bout of making out. Fingers push into his messy hair, gripping tightly to tilt his head back and allow Ishida a better angle. A quiet moan precedes Ichigo's instinctive grip on the boy's back to steady him. One of Ishida's hands guides his to reach lower, curling over the firm curve of his ass. Ichigo gives a tentative squeeze and revels in the audible response. He moves the other hand down and does it again, making Ishida buck against him.

The thought that they really shouldn't be doing this kind of activity in a public space—private room in the library or not—eventually dawns on him. Right about the moment Ishida starts unbuttoning the top of his shirt, bending down to kiss at the arched column of his throat and the exposed plane of his chest, he thinks they should really stop before it gets worse. Ichigo gasps when a hand touches his belt and Ishida dismounts to undo it easier. Ichigo plants his arms to the table behind to keep himself upright.

"Wait," he breathlessly tries. "This isn't really...I mean, this place is..."

Unconcerned, he nudges in close between Ichigo's parted legs and asks, "Did you happen to bring the supplies I made you buy? In your bag, maybe?"

" _What_? Of course not!"

"Pity."

The zip of his slacks is unceremoniously yanked down and Ishida wastes no time reaching inside to rub lightly over Ichigo's erection through the thin fabric of his boxers. While Ichigo struggles not to choke on his own tongue, Ishida is using his to lap at the ridge of a jaw line. His hand dips under the elastic to grip him properly with slow strokes.

"Oh, holy _fuck_ , that feels...so damn good, Uryuu," he rambles with a hitch in his voice, " _Nnnh_...But what if someone hears us?"

"Try to be quiet, then," is the succinct response before he leans in to reinitiate a searing kiss.

Ishida doesn't hold back in the slightest. He practically assaults Ichigo with teeth, tongue, lips, and hands. It is more than a little baffling how Ishida seems to know every single move to destroy any semblance of resistance in record time. What, has he been reading some _How to Seduce a Shinigami_ manual? Or is he just that easy to read? Ichigo wants to touch him, too, but his arms are already shaking with the effort of holding himself up. Breathing gone ragged, he has no choice but to break the kiss. Ishida simply returns to his chest instead. It leaves Ichigo's mouth free and he is having far too much trouble biting back his moans.

Lips encircle a nipple and suck the same moment that Ishida tightens his grip and speeds up the pace. Ichigo jerks a fist up just in time to stifle a cry, forcing him to lean on a single elbow. Taking advantage of the new expanse to explore, Ishida starts licking a thick line down the center of his belly, drawing alarmingly close to—

Suddenly Momoyama's wicked confession in the bathroom over a month ago comes back to him. _What if I said I'm gonna get him to suck me off, my fingers tugging at his shiny black hair, so I can come all over his pretty face?_ He distinctly remembers having so much disdain for the type of person who would take pleasure in another's humiliation. The very last thing he wants is to do anything demeaning like that to Ishida.

"Don't," Ichigo snaps in a mild panic the instant before Ishida's mouth reaches its ultimate destination. He shows a concerned expression but doesn't retreat. "I-I just...I'm close and I didn't want to, uh..."

Smiling softly, Ishida nods. "I see. Your consideration is appreciated, but unnecessary. Making a mess in the library simply won't do."

"No, that's not—"

"Besides," he continues with a thrilling twist of his wrist to halt more complaints, "I've been wondering about...how you taste, _Ichigo_."

With him rendered speechless from lust, even if that shameless line is a deliberate cliché, the debate is ended by default. Ishida plucks off his glasses to deftly fold and set aside on the table. He pushes his fringe behind an ear and pulls up the chair with poise to sit comfortably as he ducks in to suck him down. A stuttered string of curses erupts from Ichigo's unguarded mouth and his back hits the table at last, only to arch off it a few moments later.

Yelling as he comes, Ichigo dimly marvels at the way Ishida stays right where he is throughout. True to his word, he doesn't allow a hint of a mess on the conference room floor. He pulls Ichigo up by his shirt flaps and buttons it up for him. Maybe he was planning to fix his pants, too, but Ishida doesn't get the chance as he is swept into a fierce hug and kissed all over his face.

"Uryuu," he moans against the boy's shoulder, "Let me return the favor? I want—"

"We should go."

"What happened to using the full hour? You're hard, too, aren't you?"

Tense shoulders relax when he glances down to confirm that yes, Ishida is definitely interested in proceedings. Imagining sinking to his knees right then and there to create the same sort of pleasure Ichigo just enjoyed has his mouth watering in anticipation. A hand to his cheek brings his gaze back to Ishida's.

"That sounds lovely, but two things are wrong with that scenario: first, you were very loud just now and while I'm flattered that you think so highly of my lingual abilities, we will be interrupted by library staff any moment now."

"Shit," he grunts, straightening his slacks and combing through his wild hair. "Second?"

"Second, this was meant to be a token of encouragement for _you_ , Ichigo."

"Okay, but that doesn't mean you can't also—"

The door bursts open and a pair of harried librarians pause in the doorway upon sighting the two of them lingering so close together. They immediately separate, collecting their scattered possessions and dropping them into school bags. Ichigo swipes the glasses from the table and hands them over with a private smile that Ishida returns.

"We were just leaving," he tells them as he slips on the specs. "Apologies for the noise."

Ichigo grins at the confused women as he follows Ishida past them into the hall, through the main atrium, and out of the library entirely. Laughter trickles out of him as soon as they descend the structure's staircase. Ishida huffs and shakes his head with a persistent smirk. Their good humor continues all the way to Ichigo's house.

"Those librarians will never look at us the same way again," chuckles Ichigo.

"They were just jealous they don't have a handsome ginger to enjoy."

"More like they've never seen prettier eyes on a man before. Seriously, promise you'll never get contacts or there will be no end to the people lining up to get with you."

"Shut up," Ishida mumbles with a quick roll of his 'pretty' eyes. "In that case, you're no longer allowed to take off your shirt in public."

"Pants are okay, though?"

"Absolutely not."

"Shoes and socks?"

"Hmm, better not chance it."

"Should I wear one of those burka things, just to be safe? Or a full suit of armor?"

"If you have one handy."

"I'll get right on that," sniggers Ichigo, at his limit for this goofiness, "As soon as you start wearing those giant sunglasses that take up half your face."

"Oh, I have a pair at home that should do the trick."

The conversation devolves into a chuckling fit as they picture each other wearing the ridiculous articles. Ichigo's home swerves into view around a corner, sobering them up. He draws Ishida to a stop on the opposite corner with his hands in both of Ichigo's. They regard each other solemnly for a long moment.

"Are you sure I can't convince you to let me take you home right now and pick up where we left off?"

"I think we shouldn't see each other until after exams."

"What?" Ichigo hisses, dropping the boy's hands in shock. "Why, all of a sudden...?"

To assuage his fears, Ishida steps forward to press a gentle kiss to his lips. "Because you have to win this bet, Ichigo. You have to rank high and get into the university you really deserve rather than settling for second-rate. Having me around after what we just did at the library will interrupt your concentration. Anyway, it's only a few days—"

"That's a fucking _lifetime_ to me, Uryuu. I don't want to separate for three minutes, much less three days! Don't you think me pining for you is more of a distraction?"

"Don't be melodramatic," he scoffs, turning his head away to let a convenient wash of hair hide his expression. Ichigo sets fingertips to his chin to turn it back and meet a troubled gaze.

"It's true. More and more often, I can't bear to be apart because...I love you."

"What did I just say?" snaps Ishida. He knocks the hand from his jaw and scowls. "How can you say something like that to me? We've barely breached the realm of a romantic relationship!"

"I've known you for years. I trust you with my life—my very soul, now I think about it. I want you like I've never wanted anyone before." Looking unimpressed, Ishida crosses his arms over his chest and purses his lips. Ichigo sighs. "It's more than any of that, though. It's missing you when you're not there. Wondering what you're up to at any given moment. Thinking you'd like a song I heard on the radio the other day. Remembering lines from your favorite books that I read to understand you better."

"Stop," he murmurs with eyes lowered.

"You turn my thoughts to lame poetry I'm too embarrassed to recite. I see the color black and think of your hair, how soft it feels between my fingers. Smelling coffee makes me think of the way you always breathe it in before taking a sip, like a subconscious ritual. I can't pass a convenience store without recalling the way you laughed at my fumbling attempts at adulthood until you cried a little."

"I said stop talking, Kurosaki," barks Ishida. Eyebrows furrowed in anger rise high when his shoulders are tightly gripped.

"Please don't call me that anymore. It's like a punch to the gut every time you do."

Then Ichigo pulls him in for a passionate kiss, one he pours all of his emotion into. Tension drains from Ishida's stiff form until he is molding to fit warmly against Ichigo's body. He returns the embrace and kisses back just as intently, just as desperately. Until Ishida shoves him away and disappears between one blink and the next.

* * *

The classroom door squeaks quietly as it is slid open too slowly. It stops halfway, requiring an extra push to allow anyone through. Ichigo doesn't quite have the spirit for his usual energetic entrance today since he has just spent the entire weekend cramming. Worse, he has spent those days entirely too Ishida-less for his liking. He walks into the classroom on-edge, hopped-up on caffeine to compensate for a lack of sleep. One glimpse of a familiar outline and Ichigo is twitching at the mere sight of him sitting beside the transfer student.

His jaw clenches painfully when he realizes they are talking to each other.

It takes a lot to walk over to his desk and mind his own business but it would take a lot more to confront them about it. By now Ichigo is basically running on fumes and he needs the last of his reserves to get through these exams. The teacher strides in as he wearily pulls a pencil from his bag, scrubbing a hand over his face. Minutes later, the test pages are placed on his desk and Ichigo breathes out a long sigh while he writes his name. A glance at the clock towards the front of the room has him catching Ishida sneaking a look. Their eyes meet for an instant, too quick for anything to be exchanged, but it is enough to rekindle a much-needed boost of determination.

The questions are answered surprisingly easily. Not that he tends to have trouble with these things but this is just weird. One after another, Ichigo marks what he knows to be the correct choice. He finishes well before most of his classmates, even going back to check over his work for the hell of it. It's too soon to feel confident, though; they won't get the results back until tomorrow at the earliest. In the meantime, he can go back to brooding about Ishida.

Which is exactly what Ichigo does during lunch. He takes to pacing the halls when he can't get his mind off the boy. Apparently some part of him is tracking Ishida on a subconscious level, because he winds up passing a classroom in time to hear a snippet of conversation spoken by his voice. The door is slightly ajar and if Ichigo leans _just so_ he can make out two shapes within.

"I don't understand. Is this about the archery contest? I only agreed to it because Kurosaki seems like the type to keep pestering until he gets his way."

"No, Momoyama-kun, it's not that."

Ichigo sucks in a startled hiss at the sound of that name. Is this really what it appears to be? He scoots closer, keeping close to the wall and dimming his reiatsu to avoid detection. Privy to their profiles, he sees Ishida shake his head and Momoyama frown.

"Then why do you never seem to have any free time these days? Are you telling me we still can't hang out now that the most important exams are out of the way?"

"Unfortunately, yes. That's exactly what I'm saying."

A long silence follows that declaration. Then, "No. I won't accept that."

"I apologize for any discomfort but—"

"' _Discomfort_ '?" Momoyama scoffs, expression turning sour. "Try 'agony'! You're turning _me_ down over that loser? I thought you were smarter than that."

"This has nothing to do with Kurosaki. My intentions with you were purely platonic from the beginning, as I thought I made clear after the first time you solicited me." Gearing up to argue further, Momoyama is cut off before he gets a chance when Ishida adds, "And by the way, you threw away a golden chance by alienating 'that loser' without giving him a chance. There are rare friends in this world who will _always_ be there for you, unconditionally, and he is one of very few such gems."

An embarrassing swell of emotion has Ichigo shutting his eyes against it. Never in his wildest dreams has he imagined a scenario where Ishida would defend him to someone, much less an interesting new buddy. Not just that, but it seems he really is rejecting Momoyama for good. Ichigo can only take that to mean he is serious about strengthening their relationship after all, despite his insistence that they aren't yet ready to start using the 'L word'. That was probably a recklessly hasty admission, in retrospect, and he can't blame Ishida for reacting the way he did.

Attention returning to the duo at the sound of shuffling, he peers in to see Momoyama grab his arm as he tries to leave. The jilted egomaniac shoves Ishida backwards to keep him from escaping. Witnessing the rough handling has Ichigo tensing to bolt in and start swinging. If ever there was an excuse to make this rivalry physical...But the thought that Ishida doesn't need—and wouldn't appreciate—anyone trying to rescue him has Ichigo hesitating.

"It won't be that easy, Ishida-kun," threatens Momoyama. "Think you get to tease me and then run off without putting out? I want compensation for the time I put in!"

"What did you have in mind?"

"Suck me off. Right now."

"Oh, is that all?"

The icy response sends a shiver down Ichigo's spine because he knows that tone, knows the steely hue his eyes must have turned to match. He has pissed Ishida off enough times to recognize the dangerous mood without difficulty. And he knows exactly what is bound to happen next. Ichigo grins.

"No, I want..." Licking his lips, Momoyama's gaze trails his body. He grabs Ishida and pins him against the wall. "I want to fuck you, too. It's the least you could do after stringing me along like this. You owe me that much. If you don't, I'll attack Kurosa—Guh!"

Striking faster than mortal eyes could hope to follow, Ishida delivers a fierce combination of precise blows that knocks Momoyama into three separate pieces of furniture before he finally hits the ground in a limp crumple with a pathetic wail. Ishida tilts his head thoughtfully at his handiwork. He flips the felled villain over with the toe of his shoe and leans over to speak in a chillingly hollow tone.

"How do you expect to match _the_ Kurosaki Ichigo when you can't even best the class nerd? I warned you not to underestimate him, didn't I? Pity no one warned you about me."

Ishida steps over him at that. Stunned by what he just saw, Ichigo doesn't have the foresight to flee the scene. The door is slid the rest of the way open and blue eyes widen to discover him lurking beyond it. No words are exchanged, but Ichigo offers a roguish smile. One that is returned after a beat. They walk back to class together in a comfortable silence that lasts the rest of the day.


	5. Chapter 5

"Moment of truth. Now or never..." he hears Keigo muttering to himself as they duck into the hall seeking their test scores. "It'll be fine, right?"

"Totally," answers Mizuiro with forced confidence. "I'm sure we all passed."

A cluster of students is blocking the wall displaying scores postings, excited chattering interspersed with a cheer here or a groan there. They shuffle off in small clumps, quickly replaced by others anxious to learn their fate. Ichigo hangs back for a while, content to watch the rest of his class check first. If only because he doesn't want anyone else around when he has whatever reaction he's going to have over his own ranking. He doesn't want to think about what could happen if he hasn't made top five.

"Twenty-two!" Keigo whoops with pumping fist. "I can't believe it!"

"Neither can I. Did you cheat?"

"How could you say that, Mizuiro? You know how hard I worked, all thanks to Ichigo getting on my case about being such a bad student. Thanks for that, by the way. You're a real pal!"

"No problem," Ichigo replies with a weak smile. "Glad you listened for once."

"Aren't you going to check the board?" asks Mizuiro.

"Yeah, in a minute. I need to mentally prepare first."

His friends exchange a look between themselves before offering a light shrug. Keigo pats him on the back and Mizuiro tells him they'll see him later. Ichigo watches them stroll down the hallway. Realizing he is alone at last and has no more excuses to delay, he sighs. Four long steps forward brings him within range. Eyes start at the bottom and work their way up the considerable list. Forties...thirties...twenties. Not yet. Twenty-two is Keigo, nineteen is Mizuiro, sixteen is Tatsuki. All of his friends have passed, it seems, and he is happy for them. The remaining fifteen proves too much for him to read right away. Ichigo shuts his eyes and leans his head against the wall.

"You're only prolonging the inevitable," Ishida says from behind him. He turns to see the boy watching solemnly. "Get on with it."

"Easy for you to say. I don't have to check the list to know where you came in."

"What are you worried about? This contest never mattered in the first place." Walking closer to meet his gaze squarely, Ishida shows him a fierce expression and insists, "What matters is your dedication, which you have already proven. I've never seen you work this hard for anything that wasn't life-or-death. Seeing how much you care, how much you're willing to give means a lot, Ichigo. Much more than any standardized test could ever measure."

"Yeah," he agrees even as his heart sinks a little because this consolation speech must mean he didn't win. "I think I understand...Thanks."

"Good. Now about your reward, I was hoping we could keep it a surprise until after school. You're available to walk back to my apartment, aren't you?"

"Wait—Reward?"

Shaking his head with an odd glint in his eyes, Ishida mutely points to the top of the list. And Ichigo gasps because he has come in at _number_ _three_. 1. Ishida Uryuu, 2. Kunieda Ryo, 3. Kurosaki Ichigo. Although he accidentally pushed Inoue into the fourth slot, Ichigo can't bring himself to feel too badly about it when Momoyama is squeezed behind her at number five. His head feels light. Or maybe that's his heart because Ishida is smiling proudly and taking his hand.

"I think making third place of more than a hundred students qualifies you for a bonus prize. Come on."

He leads Ichigo back towards the classroom where students are milling around, talking about their scores as they pack up supplies for the day. They stop just outside the open door, in full view of everyone. A few pairs of eyes land on their connected hands but most glance at each other. Ishida pivots to stand right in front of him.

"What are we doing?" Ichigo asks the enigmatic boy. "Not that I'm complaining, but—"

"Tell me when Momoyama is looking."

He turns to peer into the room, locating the student in question talking with someone by the window. Then Ishida leans in to kiss the exposed side of his neck. Ichigo tenses but doesn't evade. A girl within spots them and ducks to hiss conspiratorially to her seated friend, who cries out upon noticing them, alerting everyone else to unfolding events. Ishida is nibbling at the edge of his ear.

"Uryuu...?" he murmurs, wondering where in the world this is going.

"Is he watching?"

"Uh." A sideways glance reveals that yes, Momoyama is staring wide-eyed at them with ever-reddening features. "Yep. He sure is. Along with the rest of the class."

Ishida lifts a hand to guide him to face forward so he can kiss Ichigo far too possessively for public decency. A peal of astonished shouts goes mostly unnoticed as a slim body presses up against him. Ishida's tongue sneaks in somehow, not so much teasing as _wrecking_. His fingers find Ichigo's butt and get cozy there. It's zero to sixty in five seconds flat and he is struggling to keep up with Ishida's vigor when there are a couple dozen witnesses reacting to the molestation.

Finally, he releases Ichigo's mouth. Their eyes meet, heavy breaths and flushed cheeks speaking volumes until actual words are voiced.

"I want you, Ichigo. _Only_ you because I—" He looks down—thoughtfully, then decidedly—before coming back up, "Because I love you, too."

He hugs Ishida hard, repeating the phrase against his ear. The girls coo and most of the boys groan. Momoyama doesn't make a sound, but the expression he sports as he stomps from the room and down the hall is gratifying beyond expectations. Ichigo hides his smile against the warm hollow of his boyfriend's throat.

* * *

The front door slams.

"I don't care, Uryuu, just take them off already!"

Their bags are dropped to the floor at the entrance, shoes kicked off, and Ishida can't stop snickering because he was serious about owning a huge pair of sunglasses that take up half his face. Apparently he thought it would be funny to bring them to school with him today.

"Why? Isn't this exactly what you wanted me to wear?"

"Not while I'm trying to kiss you on your doorstep!"

"That's why I told you to be patient and wait until we got into my apartment. I have nosy neighbors who spy from their windows."

"Words cannot express how much I still _don't care,_ and if you don't get rid of that hideous abomination right now, I'm going to break it into pieces and stomp on the remains," threatens Ichigo with a frustrated glare. "It's your fault for kissing me like that in front of our classmates—for kissing me like that at all. Speaking of, where did you learn to kiss!? There's no way you're that much of a natural!"

Ishida sighs. "Jealous again so soon? This is going to be a lifelong trend with you, isn't it?"

Both of them freeze at the passing mention of relationship permanence. Well, considering they just traded 'love-you's before walking home together less than half an hour ago, Ichigo really shouldn't be surprised. Ishida bypasses the crucial implication by taking his wrist and leading him toward the bed. They stand awkwardly beside it, unsure where to begin. The oversized novelty glasses are removed, along with Ishida's regular ones. He sets them both on the bedside table before looking at Ichigo expectantly.

"What?"

"You remember those things I made you buy? Now would be the opportune time to use them."

"Oh. Uh..."

"Tell me you learned from your mistake the first time and put them in your bag after our warm-up in the library?"

"Not so much," he admits with fingers scratching absently at the back of his neck. "I could go get them?"

Rolling his eyes, Ishida reaches down to pull open a drawer. He slaps a small plastic bottle into Ichigo's hand and crosses his arms, waiting for the outburst. The response is a dropped jaw and disbelieving eyebrows.

"You never wondered why I knew so much about how to choose these kinds of things?"

"Why do you have this, Uryuu? I swear to the Soul King, if you've slept with that Peach Mountain asshole, I'll—"

"I didn't."

"Then why is it half-empty?" cries Ichigo as the other blushes faintly, avoiding his gaze. "Look, I need you to tell me if you were with someone before me. I won't get mad, I just...Fuck, I don't know. Maybe you shouldn't tell me. No, actually I don't want to hear about it."

The barrier of his arms lowers from around his chest and blue eyes rise to meet his candidly.

"I've never been with anyone, Ichigo."

"Then why—?"

"It's for _me_ ," he claims with a cringe. "I've done a lot of research about...how it's done between two men and I was curious about some things, so..."

A painful silence follows that reluctant confession. Ishida pretends he isn't fidgeting with the end of his tie while Ichigo glances back and forth between him and the bottle, putting it together. A vague scenario of how Ishida might use this on his own slowly clarifies in his mind. His eyes fall to the bed, picturing the boy nude and panting there, slick fingers simultaneously sliding over the front and pushing in behind. Perhaps with a tasteful video playing on his laptop for instructional purposes. Ichigo swallows hard.

"O-okay. Yeah. That makes sense, since you're you."

"And that means what, exactly?"

"Of course Ishida Uryuu would research gay sex before attempting it under-prepared." Ichigo has to laugh at his half-affronted, half-mortified expression. Bright cheeks burn hotter. "I bet you took notes and everything. Constructed hypotheses and tested experiments. I'm surprised you didn't use the whole bottle for the sake of science."

"Shut up!"

"Then again, you did warn me not to get anything infused or flavored, and..."

"Don't say it."

"This bottle appears to be strawberry-scented." Ishida briefly buries his face in his hands with a groan. He goes to snatch the evidence from Ichigo's hands but he evades too quickly. "You bought this because of me, didn't you? How long have you had it? The label is peeling here."

"So what? I'm a young man with a healthy sex drive!"

"Nah, it's more than that. Admit it, Uryuu: you've wanted me for a long time," he grins, holding the bottle out of reach when he is pursued. "The berry lube proves it!"

Sensing that he isn't getting the bottle away from him anytime soon, Ishida gives up the endeavor and takes a step back. He fixes Ichigo with a serious look and takes a measured breath. "Yes, Ichigo, I have had my eyes on you for some time. Do you intend to keep me waiting even now that you know the truth?" His hands lift to loosen his tie, undo the front of his uniform jacket, and drop both to drape over a nearby chair. He pops the first few clasps at the top of his shirt.

"Hell no," Ichigo breathes. "Just tell me how you want me."

"Naked, for a start."

"I can do that."

Ishida watches him undress hurriedly without doing anything about his own clothes. Pausing before pushing unzipped pants the rest of the way off, Ichigo asks a silent question. Only then does the calm boy resume removing his shirt at a snail's pace. Ishida seems much more interested in observing than participating right away. Deciding to change that immediately, Ichigo steps close to initiate a heated kiss. He finishes pushing the shirt from Ishida's shoulders for him and goes for his belt next.

The first touch of hands to flesh sparks a chain reaction that has them going a little crazy too fast. Ishida shoves his underwear to the floor, then he shoves Ichigo to the bed. His fingers migrate lower, not shy about making firm contact with a specific part of Ichigo's anatomy. The confident caress wins a throaty moan that derails their messy kiss. Ishida's mouth teases down his chest, like at the library, and Ichigo is starting to wonder if he has a thing for torsos.

"Want me to show you the fruits of my research?"

A grunt of approval is all he can muster, but Ishida figures it out. The last of their clothing is shed and Ichigo's leg is moved with an unmistakable intention. Ishida grabs the abandoned bottle and pops open the cap.

"Whoa, hold on a minute."

"What?" he innocently asks Ichigo, squeezing a dollop into his palm. "Second thoughts?"

"Are you...Is that for me?"

"That was the idea, yes."

"Um."

"Ichigo," begins Ishida with an arched eyebrow, "Surely, you didn't think _I_ would be the one to...'receive'...when you haven't even considered this in depth, much less studied the mechanics of it as I just told you I have."

"Yeah, but—"

"I'm not saying I won't be open to that _next time_ but for now one of us should really know what we're doing, if only to ensure we both make it through intact."

It wouldn't be Ishida if he weren't this logical. Part of Ichigo agrees, but the larger part has a slight issue with the whole idea. Whether he pondered doing this sort of thing with Ishida or not, his subconscious was probably expecting to go about this another way. Although _any_ sex with him is undeniably better than none at all.

"That makes sense, but maybe we should try something else first. You know, ease into it?"

"This coming from the guy who fought nearly every captain in Seireitei without a moment's hesitation."

"That's different," Ichigo argues with a roll of his eyes.

"I certainly hope so. If sex was closely akin to battle our species would have died out millennia ago. If you're saying we could do with a bit more foreplay, I'm game. But I won't be satisfied settling for an honorable mention when I've been anticipating first place."

A purposeful kiss follows that self-assured declaration. Ichigo returns it willingly enough, but he tenses to feel Ishida shifting to move his hand lower. Clever, clever person that he is, Ishida teases along his erection instead of jumping right into anything else. The aroma of artificial strawberries blooms between them and Ichigo still can't believe how different it feels when it's Ishida's fingers wrapping around him, rather than his own. He turns away from the kiss to suck in much-needed oxygen.

"Did you know you make these quiet little hums when you're turned-on, Uryuu? It's kinda hot."

"Glad you approve," he murmurs back.

"I like your voice. I keep wondering if you're a 'screamer' or not."

"You'll just have to wait and find out."

Somewhere between Ichigo's breathless laughter and Ishida's lips on his stomach, a slim finger slips inside.

"Oh, fuck, that feels so weird," he says in a rush.

Ishida lifts his mouth from Ichigo's stomach to meet his eyes and promise, "You'll get used to it. Try not to focus on it too much."

"How the hell am I supposed to tune it out?"

It is a rhetorical question, but Ishida smirks at him before leaning down to carefully lick while pushing in deeper. He gasps and wriggles at the dual sensations.

"Hmm...this stuff _tastes_ like strawberries, too."

Ichigo snorts in amusement at the casual comment, in spite of the tentative addition of a second finger along with more of that ridiculous substance. Ishida has evidently decided he likes the taste of it, as he has started sucking on the end of his cock. This development does wonders for relaxing Ichigo enough to try a third. The stretch is more than he bargained for, summoning a sharp hiss through his teeth. Ishida eases back immediately and arches up to press an apologetic kiss to his chin. Pushing both hands into his hair, Ichigo guides him in for a real kiss and samples fake fruit from his lips.

"Keep going," he tells Ishida. "I'm fine."

They both pause at that, startled at his eagerness after initial doubt.

"Are you sure? Maybe you were right in the first place. Doing this with you instead of myself is much more dissimilar than I thought."

"Losing confidence already, Uryuu?"

It is meant as a tease but he answers seriously, "I just don't want to hurt you."

"Well, I don't want to hurt you either and I trust your ability to do this more than mine."

Ishida blinks a few times in the wake of such praise. Ichigo's reassuring smile seems to do the trick and he goes back to his task without another word. The sounds of their breathing fill a quiet created by intense concentration. Ishida closes his eyes, guiding his fingertips as though searching, and looks almost annoyed when he can't find whatever it is. Ichigo bites back a huff of humor. Then he flings his head back and yells as a violent orgasm is forced from him.

"Aaand there it is," Ishida smugly announces, delicately withdrawing. "You should be ready now."

Ichigo needs a long moment before he snarkily responds, "Don't say it like I'm a damn _casserole_! Warn me if you're going to do something that..."

"That...insanely enjoyable? Sure, I'll give notice next time." Handing over a few tissues from his nightstand, Ishida lowers to lie beside him and says, "I can hardly wait to know what that feels like, if it's half as fun as you made it look."

"You mean you didn't—?"

"Couldn't reach."

"That is a fucking tragedy," Ichigo laments amid hasty swipes at the mess on his belly, "Because that was probably the most fun I've ever had. So far."

"Speaking of 'so far', how do you want to do this?"

"What do you mean?"

Waiting until he is done cleaning up, Ishida points to a wastebasket for him to toss the tissues. He leans on an elbow and regards Ichigo's body lustfully.

"I mean which position would you prefer? There are plenty to choose from, but I would recommend keeping it relatively simple for a first try."

"Uh, I don't know, what do you suggest?"

"For example, you could...um," here he pauses, cheeks dusting pink. The only way he finishes the thought is by speaking at twice the pace to rush the embarrassing words through. "I guess you could try...riding me? Or we could go with 'missionary', that's an easy one. I-I've read about one where both participants are on their knees and—"

"The second one," Ichigo interrupts before it becomes unbearably awkward, "Let's just go with the easiest way."

"All right."

Neither one of them moves for a handful of seconds. Ishida chews at his own lip while staring across the room and Ichigo taps his fingers against the mattress. Finally, he interrupts whatever internal battle the other is fighting with a question that must be asked.

"So, do you have a condom, or what?"

"R-right," Ishida dimly acknowledges. "Bedside drawer."

Since he is closer, Ichigo reaches over to root around in said location. He retrieves a sealed box, which he fumbles when trying to open, and eventually hands a silver-packaged circle to Ishida, who swallows audibly as he takes it. Inquiring whether he has used one before becomes unnecessary as Ichigo watches him struggle to tear into the wrapper. Although he hasn't done it either, he snatches it away from Ishida and bites the corner, ripping the edge on the first try. A muttered word of thanks is offered when Ichigo gives it back.

By now, Ishida is so nervous his hands are shaking. The slippery prophylactic is proving too wily for his novice efforts. For his part, Ichigo is almost too distracted devoting full attention his bedfellow's dick for the first time to notice the struggle. One glance and the notion that he wants to taste it is what pops into his head. Ishida grumbles a low curse and Ichigo stills his jerky movements with a touch.

"Let me," he requests with a kiss to Ishida's shoulder. "Lean back."

He lets Ichigo take it and rests on his elbows to watch him apply the irritating thing with darkened eyes. Ishida's breath catches when he dips down to lick instead.

"Ichigo!"

"I still owe you for the other day," he points out to preempt potential complaints. "Besides, we can make it last a little longer this way."

So he goes down on Ishida like he has wanted to since their study session at the library, and it is allowed. Ichigo soon learns that although his boyfriend is _not_ a 'screamer', the noises he does make are unbelievably arousing. It's more than sufficient to make him antsy to get to the main event. Several minutes of their new favorite hobby—kissing each other silly—is all it takes for Ishida to recover enough for Ichigo to roll the rubber into place at last. Rearranging legs and arms and hips to get situated, Ishida halts in a hover and stares into his eyes.

"Ready?"

"Go," Ichigo assents with a firm nod.

Two seconds later, he wants to take it back. Two seconds after that, he's glad he can't because Ishida is making an expression that is tugging at Ichigo's heart in all the best ways. Kiss-reddened mouth open, gasping, eyelids fluttering, pupils spreading. He moans on the exhale, low and strained. Ichigo promptly answers with one of his own. Taking that as a cue, Ishida collects himself and starts to move.

It's uncomfortable at first, but watching Ishida slowly shake apart gets him through it. Each smooth thrust visibly steels his resolve until he is back with Ichigo, fully in the moment together. He makes minor shifts in their positions with the same focused look as before. This time Ichigo knows what it means, knows exactly what Ishida is searching for but isn't as quick to find.

"Come on, Shinigami, work with me," he growls with an insistent upward push at Ichigo's knee, "This is where your exceptional flexibility comes in handy."

Maybe he would take offense at being ordered around in that tone...if it wasn't suddenly so sexy. He lets Ishida do as he pleases with his limbs, even when the burn of a stretch threatens in his hamstrings because he knows it's for the best. Because Ichigo knows when he is maneuvered just so—

"Oh, _fuck yes,_ Uryuu!"

The pleasure has him tensing up and Ishida makes a desperate sound in the back of his throat, pace faltering as he calls Ichigo's name in turn. A few fleeting moments more mark their limits. Ichigo grabs whatever part of the body above that he can reach and holds tight as the friction of close hips tips him over the edge. His eyes blink open in time to see Ishida follow him down. Strength sapped, he collapses against Ichigo with a spent groan.

"That good, huh?" he chuckles, wrapping weakened arms around him. "Me, too."

"I'm so glad you won that stupid bet."

"Yeah, but be honest: you were planning to do this whether I made the rank or not."

He can feel Ishida's smile curving against his chest as he says, "Guilty."

A lazy hush settles over them like a blanket. Ichigo is drowsier than he wants to admit, especially when he knows Ishida will likely get up to insist they clean the mess before stains set. Sure enough, he eventually unties himself from the knot they've made and reaches past Ichigo for the tissue box. Ishida makes a face as he pulls off the condom that Ichigo instantly deems adorable for reasons he doesn't entirely understand. Yet, the sentiment has him sitting up to brush the hair from Ishida's neck and kiss him there. He sighs and leans into it.

"I know you think I'm crazy for claiming to be in love with you so soon after we started dating," Ichigo murmurs against his skin. "Even though you already said it back, I won't hold it against you if you want to forget it happened. We can just—"

"No."

"No?"

"I don't want to take it back and I won't forgive you if you try."

Showing a surprised expression, Ichigo responds, "Guess it's settled then."

"I suppose it is."

"You know what this means, don't you?" Raising a single eyebrow, Ishida shakes his head. "We'll have to be roommates at university, of course. Lucky for you, I'm not half as disorganized as you think. I even know how to cook a few decent meals. You may not have realized this, Uryuu, but I'm totally a catch."

Despite his sincerity, Ishida bursts into a fit of laughter at that vain assertion. Noticing how amusement lights up his entire visage, there's no way Ichigo can bring himself to be offended. Still, he tackles Ishida to the bed for posterity's sake. He kisses his boyfriend until the last of the giggles fade, drawing away to gaze into blue eyes glowing with mirth.

"You're a catch, all right. A Catch-22 because I might be a lunatic for wanting you, but letting you go would surely drive me insane."

And isn't that just about the nerdiest and most romantic thing he ever uttered?

* * *

AN: Somehow I had to finish this story with so much sap you'd think I murdered a tree! Couldn't be helped.


End file.
